


The Chronicles of Luke and Casey

by orphan_account



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), David Bowie (Musician), Hey Violet (Band), The Rolling Stones
Genre: M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 22:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4037401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My unfinished ideas about Luke and Casey time traveling and waking up in David Bowie's house. This is not a fic! It may seem like one at times, but it's also full of my ridiculous commentary. Let's call it a not!fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chronicles of Luke and Casey

**Author's Note:**

> back in the old days, i LOVED not!fic. sometimes you just need to laugh and use smiley faces in story telling, you know?? so, here i am, posting one of the many 5sos/hv not!fics i have saved on my computer. this is NOT FINISHED!! i might finish it in the future. you can take it and make it your own/expand if you want!! just ask me first and credit me in the actual fic note things!! idk if this classifies as crack, oh well. enjoy!! (if anyone actually reads this)

Okay, the last thing Casey remembers is making Luke come like THREE TIMES and then dozing off while cuddling. It's not often that he wakes up in an extremely comfortable bed while being smothered by fur blankets and silk sheets, but when he does he's sure to be woken up by Luke's Snorlax-level snores. He feels around in the sheets to get his phone, THANK GOD HE STILL HAS HIS PHONE, and it's four o'clock in the fucking morning. He blinks a bit and inspects the space from his position, coming to the conclusion that he's in some sort of rich person living room. So Casey's like, shrug, not bad, and when he walks across the floor the boards creek all loud and stuff. He feels like he might have gotten some fur lodged in his throat and like he really needs to take a piss. The only problem is that, well, he doesn't know where the bathroom is.

Casey tries to answer the questions he has for himself while he wanders around this rich guy's (or gal's) mansion, like: How does he have pants on? He was naked when he fell asleep. Whatever, they're the cool ones with the ties up the side that he dug out from his parent's attic sophomore year of High School. Why does he feel like he got run over by a bus? WHERE THE FUCK IS HE? Oh my god, what's going to happen with tour? Also…. WTF? Why does this dude have a Ziggy Stardust platinum record hanging on the wall? In the midst of that, Casey can't help but be like \o/ David Bowie! and finds the bathroom next to the stairs.

So after his piss he trots back to the pit of fur and leopard print and silk where Luke is still passed out and sleeps, because? What else is he going to do? It's probably some weird dream, anyway.

-

It's not a weird dream, though. The next time Casey wakes up, Luke's shaking him in a totally half-asleep, Luke-like panic. Casey struggles to sit up and NOT be eaten alive by a bunch of sheets. It takes waaaaaay longer than it should, but he finally does it and is like WHAT? ARE YOU OKAY? because he got the chance to quietly panic while the sun was still down and he was forced to be quiet. Luke's not really good at quiet (wink, wink) and keeps on making weird panic-y noises that are like whimper-y nothings.

"What the fuck did you do?" says Luke. Casey makes a bunch of angry hand gestures because they're totally a married couple. Speaking of married, a woman with the GIANT DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING and some REALLY EXPENSIVE-LOOKING SLEEPWEAR pads in. Casey becomes weirdly self-conscious of the red lines from the sheets probably etched into his face, and Luke has some too, which makes him rub his cheek.

The woman's got a look on her face that is kind of nice but at the same time it's one of those expressions that's like AGAIN?, like waking up with half-naked teenagers in some fancy pit-bed of doom is something that happens often. Casey squints at her and probably comes off as rude before his eyes widen and he's even more excited. He remembers the platinum record and HOLY CRAP, THIS IS ANGELA BOWIE! WHY IS ANGELA BOWIE HERE? and then he realizes that this isn't 2015 because she has to be in her late twenties or early thirties. Like, what the fuck. There's no technology except for one of those dinosaur televisions with the antenna and the huge backs and three channels.

Part of Casey wants to do the Falcon Salute and be like WE COME IN PEACE in one of those weird voices. He manages to refrain. Luke is still sort of shocked, eyes flicking between Angela and Casey, totally confused because he knows NOTHING about the 70s except for the first-wave punk stuff. On the other hand, Casey's totally in his element. Like, hello? He's even wearing the pants for it.

Angela breaks the silence and says, "Aren't you two a little young?" to which Luke replies, "I'm eighteen," like the idiot he is. Casey face-palms mentally and adds that he's nineteen. Angela seems to relax a bit, not totally, but a bit.

"At least you two can legally drink," she replies smoothly, before excusing herself to make some tea and saying something about how David won't be up until ten, probably. Luke doesn't see the big deal (uncultured swine), but Casey perks up like he's had five cups of espresso and dares to peek his head around the corner, peering into the kitchen.

In his nicest Good Boy voice, he manages to ask if David is actually David Bowie, to which Angela raises an eyebrow.

"Wouldn't you know?" she leans against the counter as her tea is brewing. The outline of her tits through the silk nightie she's wearing definitely gets tucked away in Casey's brain, somewhere deep in his spank bank, and he has to will himself not to stare. Casey's mostly gay but anyone can admire a good pair of boobs, really.

Casey goes along with it because it's easier than explaining how he's from the future and he's a huge fan and it turns out that orgasms are actually time-traveling devices. He's not really sure if he's supposed to leave or stay, not quite sure of the groupie protocol, but Angela's not seeming all too hostile and/or weirded out and actually grabs two more mugs from the cupboard and pours some tea. She tells Casey to get the other boy in here, I'm making you two some tea, it seems like you've had a rough night.

They all end up in the kitchen, standing around the island in the middle, half naked and chilling and all. Casey tries to drink his tea as fast as he can because he really hates it but ends up burning his tongue. Luke's uncomfortable level is 5000 and Casey thinks he's going to derp-out any moment now, but he can hear creaks and squeaks and DAVID BOWIE IS COMING DOWN THE STAIRS, WHAT THE HELL?!?!?

But, really, it's just Mick. As in, Mick Jagger featuring sex hair and a pair of tight-ass pants. As in, two people who have actually slept with David Bowie and two people who are lying about actually having slept with David Bowie are in the same room. Mick blinks all bleary and squints and says with his sexy British morning voice, "I don't remember…"

Luke glances at Casey and, oh boy, if looks could kill he would've already died, then been resurrected, then have died again. So Casey panics for a few seconds before laughing too loudly, like, hardcore GUFFAWING "HAHAHA!" and throws his hands around in the air whilst saying something about "ROCKSTARS AND THEIR COCAINE, RIGHT". Mick and Angie shrug like he isn't too far off and Angie pours him a cup of plant water.

They make small talk where Angela, Mick, and Casey are all like :)))))) but Luke is very :|||||| and kind of bored. Casey is being a very bad boyfriend-esque companion, whatever they really are, and Luke (oh, clueless Luke) thinks it would be a great idea to text his band about the current situation. They have WiFi which is weird because WTF IS INTERNET, IT'S THE SEVENTIES but that doesn't matter because Casey slaps the phone out of Luke's hand as soon as the first word is typed. They're probably messing with the future by already having their phones and weird 21st century haircuts, they'd be messing with nature's equilibrium or something if they DARED to send any sort of text. Not to mention that it's quite literally going through more than FOUR DIFFERENT DECADES! MORE THAN 40 YEARS!

"CASEY!" Luke exclaims.

"LUKE!" Casey exclaims.

They start to bicker, you know, blaming it on each other and stuff. Luke is talking shit about Casey's lying skills and Casey is complaining about how Luke is constantly attached to his phone while Angela bends down to pick up Luke's phone from the ground, completely and utterly confused. The screen is mostly shattered but that doesn't matter; she's swiping the lock screen and shit, eyes all wide. Mick Jagger's checking it out from a distance. Everything quiets down. They're all just sort of looking at Angela who's managed to open up Snapchat.

Luke asks for his phone back and Mick's all like "phone? That doesn't LOOK like a phone". Casey drops his head into his hands because that's it, they've caused the end of the world. All because a model and a half-drugged rockstar knows about Apple technology, like, WAAAAAY before they're supposed to.

Don't worry. The situation gets even worse/better! Because that's when DAVID BOWIE decides to strut in with HIS stupid sexy british voice, all grumbly and low and calling for Mick and Angela. That's when Casey realizes there's something very ménage à trois about the whole thing, and he'd be very okay with turning it into a ménage à quatre or even a ménage à cinq but David's too busy looking startled and intrigued about the two barely-legal half-naked boys in his kitchen.

"Do I know you two?" he says. Casey wants to curl up into a ball and die. Luke's handling the whole thing strangely well, but he might just be trying to hold in grumpy-dragon-morning-Luke until they somehow wake up in their bunk again.

Casey just blinks at DAVID BOWIE like an idiot, mouth opened softly. Luke speaks for him although he doesn't quite say the right thing.

"No. We woke up in your bed," he says. Angela and Mick are both very ??? about the situation. No orgies? What a shame.

And David just nods, rubbing at the eyeliner smeared under his eyes because he's totally into weird hot alien boys waking up in his house. This is the guy who has a bed dedicated to crazy sex parties in his living room. This is the guy who paints a gold ring on his forehead and claims it's his third eye. Casey is IN LOVE. But, you know, not as much as he is with Luke.

Honestly, Casey would make some sort of loud, nervous speech about drugs and celebrities and how they should probably get going, like, right now. But it doesn't feel right. David's not freaking out. Angela seems used to it all. Mick is simply Mick, as in, has the guy ever cared about anything other than getting his dick wet? The world may never know. Was Australia even considered a continent in the 1970s? Luke's probably an alien with his weird, slightly aggressive, add-Rs-onto-the-end-of-every-word-ending-with-a-vowel accent. A hot alien, but an alien.

-

Yada yada yada. There was supposed to be sex, more sex, some boyfriend-ish love, David Bowie being arrogant yet shy at the same time, Mick being fucking wild, Angela huffing at everything, Luke being 100% done with Casey's shit and Casey looking like a kid in a candy shop. AND THEN MORE SEX! And then they wake up in their bunks with glitter all over them and burns from denim against their skin but THEY'RE THE ONLY ONES WHO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED :o! I'm sure you all have much better things to do with your lives than read about my daydreams. Thank you for reading what's down, though! :D

**Author's Note:**

> i don't even go on my tumblr anymore, oh well.


End file.
